


To-and-Fro

by StarlightCaptivator



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic, Dratchtember, Gen, M/M, Married Life, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-19 15:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20659358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightCaptivator/pseuds/StarlightCaptivator
Summary: Dratchtember 2k19 promptfills!





	1. Domestic Difficulties + Appreciation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entries for September 15th and 16th for Dratchember! The relevant tags for this chapter are Married Life and Domestic.

The basis of a good, long-lasting relationship could be simplified to a few simple concepts.

Love is an important factor of course, but dedication and a willingness to communicate with one's partner could see a relationship into longevity.

But it was compromise that could make it stick, compromise that could smooth over some of the worst bumps on the road to a life together.

Ratchet knew very well that he and Drift were nearly experts in the art of compromise by now, a year into a new universe.

He'd accepted the incense, Drift had accepted the proximity to medbay- He'd accepted the henning over his health and Drift had accepted the tinkering station in their shared quarters. They'd both known, in the time before their relationship, about the nightmares and the hoarding and the meditation and that proneness to seclusion when a bout of depression could hit.

So when Ratchet came home to find a large, soft crystal formation sitting in the center of their living area, his mind somehow skipped all of any thought of compromise, and his spark felt warm and fuzzy.

A joy of this new universe were the new worlds there were to visit, and the Lost Light had not yet departed from this newest find- The large mineral planet didn't have energon per say, but had a wealth of minerals and crystals that were beneficial to the Cybertronian systems.

So, coming home to see the huge, green formation of soft crytal in the middle of their living area, Ratchet couldn't help but smile.

Such a gift was useful as it was thoughtful, and in powder form the crystal dissolved into energon with a bit of a sweet-tart taste that gave a whopping ten percent to a mech's fuel-using efficiency.

Ratchet withdrew a vibro-blade from his subspace. It wouldn't be hard to shave it down and then cut into pieces for consumption and powdering.

Maybe he'd even set some aside for cocktails, it made even light fuels get someone overcharged at a certain saturation.

So, it got on to late in the day and he had managed to cut the thing in half- width-wise- and was in the process of cutting the pointy bits into little, easy to grind chunks when Drift walked in- and then stopped dead in the doorway, watching him.

"Ratchet." He said, obviously struggling to keep his vocal processes at the register they started out in. "What are you doing?"

Ratchet froze from where he was sat on the floor and looked up, well aware of what that that tone- some combination of dismay and disbelief (and he'd bet money there was anger there somewhere) -meant. He hazarded a small, hopeful smile.

"I got your gift?" he hazarded carefully. "This much translucent veridium will keep out medical stocks topped up for weeks."

Drift's whole body language shifted at once into a droop. Ratchet could tell when he looked pointedly from him to the remains of the crystal, sheared off at the midpoint like it was.

Drift appeared to have some kind of mental battle with himself, but Ratchet beat him to speaking.

"It wasn't a gift, was it?" He asked, voice gentled. If it wasn't a gift, it was there for some ridiculous woo-woo purpose, and while he had a tolerance for _that_ up to where it butted up against an alternative for modern medicine...

There was another compromise- he'd done his utmost not to slag on Drift's beliefs and hobbies regarding such. But a crystal that size in their _living room_, for spark's sake? He worked to control his expression as best he could as Drift shook his head in a no, and withdrew the vibro-blade from the chunk he'd been hacking away.

"I know you don't like this sort of thing." He started, and Ratchet began to feel like a heel. "It's supposed to strengthen the sparks together," Drifts sighed sullenly. "Foster deeper love and such." _That_ earned a grimace out of the medic, and he debated for several long moments putting his tools down and moving to embrace Drift in comfort, when Drift made his choice for him.

"Do what you'd like with it." He said, breaking the silence and he moved quickly in and past to retreat to their shared berthroom. Ratchet caught a grumble of a comment of him having a better use for it anyways, before the door slid shut.

Ratchet let his face fall into a frown at the door before he directed his ire down at the crystal chunks in front of him. It really was a nice gesture, if in that way that made him cringe to have to think about the possibility of sharing his space with a third in the form of a giant crystal.

And here he was, having spat right in the face of Drift's romanticism, as new-agey as it was. An itch took over his plating, in that hyperbolic sense of needing to_ do_ something to make it up to him.

His mind raced, he considered one of those last bottles of spiced high-grade he had been planning on saving for their anniversary, or perhaps messaging Swerve for energon goodies and risking the minibot blabbing all over the ship about his colossal frag-up.

Ratchet got up to pace, only to bump into the biggest piece of crystal left- the conical frustum bit of the rock left from his hacking. He glared at the thing, as if it could solve his problems, when an idea struck him.

A good relationship had to deal with compromises, and Ratchet couldn't help but feel at this point? He was an expert at those.

* * *

Drift woke several hours later, cold and alone in the berthing.

He couldn't help but pout just a little when he made it to full coherency, one to find himself alone and two, in remembrance of what had happened to the magnificent specimen that was his giant translucent veridium spire. Ratchet had seemed so pleased with himself when Drift had walked it.

Drift felt bad for just a moment, even a little guilty at the interaction the night before, but stuffed the feelings down when a tentative ping came at his commsuite.

It had been pre-sent to him just an hour prior, and he could appreciate the obvious apology for what it was, and the note of love attached to it.

It also mentioned a bit of a surprise for him in their living room, and Drift wondered with a grimace if Ratchet had went and got some energon goodies for him from Swerve's and how much the rumors of an argument would've spread by then, if so.

He was pleasantly surprised to find their shared living area cleaned up, but couldn't help the sting of disappointment at the lack of his spire. It faded quickly though when he saw what had been left in it's place, and crouched down to survey the surprise with optics blown bright.

Bless him, Ratchet had turned the biggest chunk left of the crystal into a _table_ of all things. A datapad set atop it turned on when he got close, and he lifted it to read the message left in Ratchet's doctors' scrawl. 

_Apologies for the crystal, hopefully this makes up for it just a little. _

Drift couldn't help but smile at the sight of it, Ratchet had carved out around a central foot and smoothed the edges of roughness, before using a laser scalpel to carve the top into a flat symbol of Vector Sigma- inlaid with- with-! 

His vents stalled just a moment, looking at the disks of galena and selenite laid in and lacquered to stick and shine, and he couldn't help that feeling of all-encompassing love that overtook him for the notice of how each of the stones would complement each other. (Not to mention that the disks being as they were meant Ratchet had to dip into medical stock to source them.) 

Drift shot off a thank you ping back to his Ratty in turn, for whenever he'd like to skulk back from the medbay and took up a perch on their couch to admire the craftsmanship of their new table. 

Compromise _indeed_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We switch gears to a different story entirely for the next chapter. Thanks for reading! ♥


	2. Bloodshed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Dratchtember, but this week was crazy. Time for all these late uploads ^^;

Deadlock often dreamed about the stench of battle. 

He'd been unable to identify it for the longest time for what it was, having had as much experience with it adjacently, but it struck him as he heaved one of his- no- one of Megatron's runners over his shoulder as he hid from the enforcers. 

Like a coward. 

His hands itched to take his guns back in his hands, but he had his orders. 

And his orders were that the package needed to be returned back to headquarters, alive. 

As he did his best to staunch the bleeding, a thought occurred to him. 

Deadlock quick-checked his map, and a thrill stole through him. 

His bleeder, singed and scorched with blaster fire as he was, seemed to be unresponsive at best, and was probably on the verge of guttering at worst. 

But what did he know, he wasn't any kind of medic. 

The enforcers had gotten him good, and practically turned what could've been a perfectly good tool into scrap. 

Good thing Deadlock had been ordered to tail him through his task. 

He grumbled as much to himself as the energon that was the mech's lifeblood kept spilling through his hands. 

It was already too much, too fast, but with as close to that un-patrolled border of Rodion they were, they still had that chance. 

And he would get that rare chance too, if he had his timing right. 

Deadlock was off like a shot with no warning, digging his claws into the mech to keep his hold. 

Fortune tended to favor both the brave and the stupid, and he was certainly a felt to be a little of both as he dumped his runner off on the doorstep of the free clinic in Rodion and retreated to a tactical position to watch. He'd been right on time, as not moments after he'd settled into his spot to watch for the fate of the mech, the medic showed up with an armful of supplies in tow. 

Deadlock's spark skipped, and he didn't bother to reprimand himself for the feeling, instead hoarding it greedily as he watched him- watched Ratchet open the door to shove the supplies in before falling to his knees to tend to the dying mech. He let his optics scour those clean lines and crisp paint, admired the stark red against that unblemished white. 

Ratchet appeared to work with a singular focus, but every few moments he'd glance up to take in his surroundings, keeping that sharp optic on his surroundings. 

Deadlock, with his gun cocked the medic's direction in case of just such an eventuality, admired him for it, as if he wasn't already. 

When he'd stabilized the mech, Ratchet threw an arm under his and pulled him into the clinic at speed. 

Deadlocked watched him go, and hunkered down with his blasters in the event that someone came towards the clinic in a rush. He'd protect <strike>his</strike>\- Rodion's miracle medic with all he had, if needed- and maybe one day he'd approach him- and Ratchet would <strike>become his</strike>\- become one of _them_, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! ♥


	3. Love and War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon-typical Violence is the tag for this one.

Sometimes, Ratchet dreamed. 

He'd vehemently deny the ability to do so in their people, despite his own proof of experience to the contrary often literally staring him in the face. 

They were memory fluxes, he'd say, but with full knowledge that they were something entirely different, so visceral and real and not at all matching up to the memory they were supposed to be a part of. 

Tonight, his mind stuck him on a battlefield, and he found himself looking down at nostalgic hands and arms adorned with the near-right colors in the wrong patterns. 

All at once he knew he wasn't supposed to be there, that he was supposed to be stationed farther from the fighting as per his new rank, but the haze of medical code sending his thoughts into a turbo-hawk-like override thrust the strangeness from his mind. There were wounded to patch, and there was safety to get to. 

He'd patched three mecha, and was humming with satisfaction of having saved when battle-coding new and old spun up into a frenzy. Out of the corner of his vision, purple had flashed on white. 

A greener him would've hesitated more than he knew he was already going to, wouldn't have turned at all, but he found himself in a split-second stand off, lips drawn back in a snarl and blaster at the ready. 

Deadlock stared down at him from where he'd crested the rubble and looked down at him in obvious shock- the Auotbot CMO should be no where this close to this long, drawn-out battle. 

Turmoil warred in his expression just as Ratchet was sure it did in his own, and fear and that need to survive warred with a traitorous sort of love and adoration that his dream-self couldn't comprehend. 

As battle hardened and numbed he knew himself to be somewhere in his spark, he couldn't bring himself to shoot his conjunx endura. 

Drift- No, _Deadlock_ seemed to make the choice for them, and Ratchet's shoulder erupted in pain. As he startled awake he knew it was a disabling shot, and had the dream continued on, he'd have been dreaming about an early-war capture at the hands of the mech he'd one day come to love. 

Immediately he worked to calm his stressed systems and disengage his very much real and very active combat protocols, and settled himself down back beside the still deeply-sleeping Drift, feeling strangely awash in a slowly-creeping sense of relief that it all _had_ been an impossible dream. 

If it hadn't, Ratchet didn't know that he just wouldn't have gone willingly. 


End file.
